


Exchange

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Unvierse-serial killers, Anxiety, Dark Dean, Dark fic, Dean takes care of Cas, Death, Depression, F/M, Gaslighting, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Jealousy, Killing Spree, M/M, Mental Abuse, Mentions of past sexual assault, Needy Castiel, Obsession, Physical Abuse, Serial Killer Dean, Sexual Tension, Trauma, Verbal Abuse, bed wetting, mental manipulation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 14:14:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5589226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: Dean Winchester is a serial killer, known to the population as ‘the butcher’. Castiel Milton is smothered by an overbearing and abusive mother. However, when these two worlds collide, Dean and Castiel realize they need each other. In more ways than one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exchange

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if this first chapter sucks. I wrote it late at night and I'll probably fix and edit it later. I just wanted to put this out there to see what people thought, if they wanted me to continue with this story. Comments and kudos appreciated. And please, find me on tumblr, I love making new friends! http://carryon--barefootbabe1967.tumblr.com/

 " _Lord please save her for me. Do this one thing for me....So give me all of you in exchange for me."_ -Bryson Tiller _Exchange_

The house was dark. A single light in the living room illuminating the walkway. He sits in the car, waiting, watching.

His phone beeped, he pressed the button on the side to silence it and drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, took a swig of whiskey, listened to some music and thought about his life. All the things that had brought him to this moment. To this point in his life.

Dean Michael Winchester had, had a fairly normal early upbringing. He learned how to play catch, had loved cuddling his mother and protecting his baby brother. Sam had only been two years old when it happened. And Dean still woke up to his family’s screams some nights.

The only thing that kept the nightmares away was a drunken stupor, to which he passed out and woke up with a hammering headache the next day. But it worked. Better than any god damned therapy.

The light went out around midnight. Dean waited for about a half hour, to make sure that the little street was asleep. He didn't want to be disturbed or interrupted, especially by the police, he still had a scar from his last encounter with them.

He crept up to the house silently and tried the door, just to see if by some dumb luck the cliche of leaving the door unlocked may be the case. It was not however and he sighed. That shit only works in movies. He pulled his tools from his pocket and began to pick at the lock, trying not to waste too much time.

-0-0-

Castiel was curled in a ball, hands over his ears and humming softly to himself in the cramped closet. He’d been bad and his mother had locked him in as punishment. But it hadn't been his fault that Mrs. Gibson smelled like cat piss, he’d only been speaking what was on his mind. But it was rude and mother did not stand for rudeness.

“....Picture yourself….on a boat on a river…” His voice was low, off key and cracking from not being used, yet he sang to comfort himself, something a teacher in elementary school had taught him. It helped when he felt panicked or scared. He could focus better. “With t-tangerine trees….and marmalade skies….” _Thud_. _Creak_. _Thud_. He snapped his mouth shut, squeezing his eyes tightly and curling even harder into the little ball. He could hear footsteps, they were heavy and hard. He was frightened. Afraid his mother may have another punishment in store for his rude behavior. He began to shake and claw at his hair, pulling it out in chunks. He didn't want to be in trouble.

A light flickered to life outside of the door, it stretched underneath the frame and drew closer to Castiel as it brightened. He saw shadows and heard footsteps.

“C-Castiel wha-who are you!” That was his mother, her voice loud and shrill as it always got when she was nervous, But she was talking to someone...Someone who scared her.

“Zachariah Slater. Where is he?” Castiel shivered at the time of voice. It was male, there was a bit of a southern twang to it and it was low, dangerous and threatening. Castiel put a hand over his mouth and slowed his breathing. Now he was scared too.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Castiel knew that tone. His mother never dealt well with threats. She was nearly always offended when someone even thought of making one towards her. “And if you don't leave this into- _ahrgh_!” Castiel could hear scuffling, see feet move beneath the door. He winced at the sound of his mother’s pained gasp.

“I'm only going to ask you this one more time-”

“It's you!” Castiel heard his mother cut the stranger off, “the one on the news! The Butcher-”

“Zachariah Slater! Where is he?!” Another scuffle, his mother cried out again, the intruder let out a low warning growl. “I won't ask again.”

“Go to hell.” Castiel heard his mother spit out.

“After you.” Castiel shut his eyes and curled in on himself harder, there was a bang, loud and it echoed off the walls, then a heavy, dead thud. Tears sprang to Castiel’s eyes. A warm, wet liquid ran from between his legs, he felt as though he may vomit. He just pissed his pants. He let out a whimper.

-0-0-

Dean wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. Naomi Milton. Forty two years old. She killed her son back in the day and covered it up, payed off a judge and got away with it. Bobby had said she had info on Zachariah, but if she truly did it went to the grave with her. _Ah well,_ he would still be paid for taking her out. Though he didn't get to carve her up, that was a bit disappointing-

A soft noise broke through the silence that had befallen the house. It was a cross between a whimper and a sob. Dean went still, listening, smelling, looking for the source of the noise. He turned towards the hallway, a small closet stood at the end and it loomed, daring Dean to go to it. Daring him to open it.

He hesitated, if it was a dog that could be dangerous. Especially if it bit him. He was good at his job, but one slip up and he could be put away forever. Don't be a wuss. He shook the thoughts from his mind, it was just a closet, he had a shotgun, if anything jumped out at him….well he’d take care of it.

As he got closer to the closet he noticed the smell. It was strong and made his stomach churn. Urine. Someone, or something had pissed and hadn't cleaned up after. He stood outside the closet for a moment and listened. He heard it again. The whimper. He twisted the knob to the closet to find it locked. He rolled his eyes and twisted harder, breaking the door and flinging it open.

-0-0-

Castiel screamed. The door flung open wide and the intruder stood above him. Dark and brooding. He was terrified. Hard sobs wracked his body as he pushed himself back into the corner of the closet.

“Please!” He cried. “Please don't hurt me! My mother! I want my mother!” The stranger looked taken aback and surprised by Castiel’s reaction. The confusion of it all only made him cry harder, he brought his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, cowering pathetically. “Please don't hurt me...I want my mommy…”

-0-0-

Dean was surprised to find an actual person in the closet. _Why’s he in here_? He bit his lip, astonished by the man’s behavior. Dean himself was twenty six and this man looked to be only a year or two younger than him, yet he was acting like a child. Curled in on himself in the corner. Dean felt sympathy for him. He must've been scared to death.

“Please don't hurt me...I want my mommy…” He sobbed between hiccups. Dean knelt down and reached out, the only thing he knew to do when someone was in hysterics. His hand came down hard and fast, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing through the house. The man in the closet quieted immediately. _Finally_.

“I'm not going to hurt you,” Dean said. His ears were ringing, the man had a pair of lungs for sure, he thought he might have gone deaf from all the wailing. The slap silenced him, but didn't stop the poor guy’s trembles. “What’s your name?” Dean asked. The man licked his lips and looked up. His eyes were red rimmed and watery but they were the deepest, clearest blue Dean had ever seen in his life. Beautiful. It was the only way he could describe them.

“C-Castiel Milton.”

“How old are you?”

“22.” Dean deadpanned. He didn't know what to say to that. He cleared his throat.

“Naomi….she was your mom?” Castiel nodded.

“She adopted me. Me and my brother Michael...he died.” Castiel added the last part quietly. Dean nodded.

“Why are you in the closet?” He asked.

“I was bad. Mother had to punish me.”

“What the hell?” Dean was astonished, the guy was a fucking adult. _Jesus_. He thought. “Castiel you're an adult.”

“Mother said I couldn't be an adult. I won't make it without her...you-you killed her!” Dean winced. Castiel’s tone was accusatory and it cut him, which was strange because things like that never usually bothered Dean. “I'm going to die too.” Castiel stated as simply as though he were reporting the weather. “I can't live without her.” He rested his chin on his knees. In that position, curled in on himself, he did look like a lost little boy. Dean sat back on his heels and drug his hand down his face. It was only then that he caught the scent of piss again and took a closer look at Castiel. He was going to hell for this.

“You peed yourself.” Dean said softly. He couldn't leave the guy like this. It was apparent that Naomi had not taught him nor has she equipped him for a life of his own. Castiel took a shaky breath.

“Mother made me wear diapers to bed. She said it doesn't matter how old you are. You can wet yourself any time, anywhere and at any age.” Dean shook his head, he didn't know what he could do for this boy, but he couldn't leave him. Not here to fend for himself. Damnit.

“I'll help you clean up. If that’s okay? Then we have to leave.” Dean reached forward, Palm up and hand extended to Castiel, who only looked at him curiously.

“Leave?” Dean nodded.

“I can't leave you here. You've seen my face. I killed your mom. The cops...they're gonna be looking for both of us. After you get cleaned up I'll take you to a buddy of mine and we’ll figure it out from there.”

-0-0-

“I can't leave you here. You've seen my face. I killed your mom. The cops...they're gonna be looking for both of us. After you get cleaned up I'll take you to a buddy of mine and we’ll figure it out from there.” Castiel just stared at Dean. He didn't know what to think or what to say. He had expected to be murdered too. Like Mother. Instead this stranger was offering to take him from here. Give him a fresh start. Warmth blossomed in Castiel’s chest, the thought of freedom, so close he could taste it, set every nerve in his body on fire. After a moment he smiles, reaching up and clasping the stranger's hand. His green eyes relaxed as Castiel accepted his help.

“What’s your name?” Castiel asked, in a normal tone.

“Dean. Dean Michael Winchester.” He smiled and shook Dean’s hand firmly.

“Hello Dean.”

 


End file.
